


Red Strings

by Laylah



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Light Dom/sub, Magical Bondage, PWP, Puppet Strings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26088859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: It's been a long day. Apollo could use some relief.
Relationships: Orchid/Apollonia Vaar
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13
Collections: Femslash After Dark 2020





	Red Strings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acidicshortcake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acidicshortcake/gifts).



It's been a long day. Apollo won't complain, not when Orchis works harder than any of them to restore Erste, but it's so tiring—the negotiations, the reassurances, all the fiddly politeness parts to governance that the empire rarely bothered with and that she, as a weapon brought in to fix what diplomacy couldn't, never had to. Even now, Orchid and Orchis do most of the talking with the diplomats, while Apollo looms behind them in the Black Knight's armor, a reminder that Erste has power at her disposal if politeness fails.

A small hand comes to rest on her gauntlet. "You're brooding," Orchid says.

"I'm fine," Apollo demurs. She reaches up to take off her helm, happy to trade its protection and its menace for some fresh air and a chance to let her guard down. Here, in the suite the two of them are sharing, she can almost relax. She looks down to meet Orchid's eyes. "I want to support Orchis, but it's easier to do it by fighting monsters."

"I know. But I'm sure she appreciates your help." She reaches up to stroke a lock of hair off Apollo's face, then gets a grip and pulls her down for a kiss, licking and nipping. Her kisses always taste just faintly of magic, the crackling dark sharpness that animates a golem, and by now Apollo has grown to associate that taste with good things about to happen. She leans into it, one hand on Orchid's delicate waist, kissing harder to goad Orchid into biting.

When Orchid pulls back she puts a finger to Apollo's lips and says, "So would you appreciate _my_ help?"

"Yes," Apollo says immediately, her heartbeat quickening in anticipation. The way Orchid's confidence has grown since she came into her own still catches her off balance as often as not, and it's thrilling.

Orchid steps back, nodding with a pleased little smile. "Take off the rest of your armor, then."

"Gladly," Apollo says; she's been ready to do that for hours. She strips out of it quickly, efficiently, this armor that has been her public identity for years, and as she sets it aside on the armor stand she feels—not for the first time—that without it she becomes a different person. Armored, she's cold and merciless. Stripped of it, she has no way to hide.

But that's fine, when she's just with Orchid. She has no desire to hide from her. She sets the last of her armor aside and turns to face Orchid again, waiting to see what she wants.

Orchid stretches her hands out in front of her, fingers spread wide, and the air snaps with power. Her puppet strings materialize, glowing red, but Lloyd doesn't—instead the strings lash out and wrap around Apollo's body, pulling tight around her waist, her limbs, between her thighs. They hum with heat, not enough to be painful but enough to set this apart from being trapped in ordinary bonds.

Orchid tugs on the strings, just a tiny flick of her wrist, and Apollo staggers forward without meaning to. Her clit throbs as she realizes that tiny, delicate Orchid is capable of manhandling her like this, exerting magical force that can move her whether she wills or no. She tries to pull back and can't; despite how fine the strings appear, they'll stay where Orchid wants and absorb her struggles without Orchid ever having to fight back.

"You still trust me?" Orchid asks.

"Do whatever you want," Apollo says. She would deserve it if it were too much, too cruel, after everything she put Orchid through on her quest. But Orchid is too forgiving to think of it that way.

Instead she gestures with both outstretched hands and the puppet strings lift Apollo off the floor entirely. For an instant Apollo can't even breathe.

"If you tell me to stop, I will," Orchid says. Her voice is calm, almost distracted, like most of her attention is going into controlling the magic. "But until then, you can fight them as much as you want."

"Fight them?" Apollo echoes.

"Instead of just standing around looking scary but doing nothing, like you've been doing for the last few days." Orchid's lips quirk into a tiny smile. "Get some of that pent-up energy out."

Apollo shifts, pulling against the strings as best she can, fighting their hold. It's hard to get purchase when everything that supports her can move, and the tautness of the strings seems to keep changing—not only to match the way she struggles, but at other times she can't predict, keeping her always off-balance. Orchid is right, though; it feels good to move, to work her muscles instead of standing still. She feels more alive than she has since negotiations started, her heart beating hard, her muscles straining against confinement. And the puppet strings almost seem to respond to her, growing warm, pulsing against her skin.

"Fuck," she says when one of the strings wraps around her chest, rubbing against her nipples through the thin fabric of her undershirt. She glances up and catches Orchid smirking.

"That does work? I hoped it would," Orchid says. Her fingers dance and the strings respond, catching Apollo tightly and rearranging her to Orchid's liking—her arms behind her, her breasts framed by the glowing strings. One of them twines between her thighs with a thick knot pulling tight against her clit, and a moan escapes her before she can help herself. 

The movement stops. "Yes?" Orchid says.

"Please," Apollo answers hoarsely. She's helpless like this, isn't she? Hanging suspended by magic, unable to twist free, her body dancing at the end of these strings like a puppet. She'd hate it if anyone else were doing it, but with Orchid...

"Anything for you." Orchid's hands move again and so do the puppet strings, rubbing and pulsing where they hold Apollo suspended, teasing the tender flesh they restrain. Apollo squirms, only able to give herself more sensation, never less, panting as the knot between her thighs rubs over her clit. Orchid is focused entirely on her, wide eyes and parted lips, cheeks flushed as she watches Apollo's composure fall apart. It's too much to bear after all the stress of this week, the tension rising until it's unbearable—until it breaks in a climax, pleasure thrumming through Apollo's body as she trembles in the net of puppet strings.

In its aftermath, Orchid sets her down gently on the floor. Apollo looks up in time to see the strings vanishing, red light receding back into Orchid's body. Orchid steps back, leaning against the wall behind her. "Are you all right?" Apollo asks.

Orchid nods. "Just a little tired. That took work, and it was something I hadn't practiced before."

She's so lovely, flushed and just slightly disheveled, a soft smile of triumph on her lips.

"Could you use a little help yourself?" Apollo says.

"Sure. You have something in mind?"

"Nothing that fancy. But I'll make do." Apollo rocks forward onto her hands and knees, and doesn't miss the way Orchid catches her breath as she starts to crawl over there. 

Kneeling at Orchid's feet, she reaches up under those fluffy skirts and tugs her panties down. She pushes the skirt up, leans in, and presses her mouth to the soft, wet flesh between Orchid's thighs. She's home. For all the long days of diplomacy Erste needs, she wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
